A Nation's Choice
by Esta Bondevik
Summary: It is the 25th Hunger Games. 25 years since Panem ruined the other nations' lives and forced them into hiding. It also is a Quarter Quell year. What happens when the entire group of tributes are personifications? Hungertalia! Nyo! and Human names used. Warning:eventual character deaths. Rated T for safety. Pairings: DenFem!Nor, Fem!FrUk, AusHun. Brotherly Fem!EstLat and AmeFem!Can.
1. Prologue: The Dark Days

The world used to be comprised of many nations, each with its own personification, a representative of that country's culture, people, land, and spirit.

That was many, many years ago, however, and times have changed.

25 years ago, a new nation was born. His name was Panem. He had new hopes, dreams, and ideas for the world. As soon as Panem was grown, he began to attack, invade, and annex the other nations. He forced them to assimilate to his way of life, destroyed land that he deemed "useless", and tried to get rid of the other personifications.

Little did Panem know, while a country's land remains, so does it's representative. The nations went into hiding, disguising themselves as humans while Panem ravaged their lands and peoples.

This was a painful time. A personification feel every death of its citizens, every city and town burned and sabotaged.

The nations were divided into groupings known as districts. Each district is responsible for providing a resource to all of Panem.

America was impacted the greatest and most painfully. The 48 continental states became the Capitol, a posh city where all of Panem's power lies. Hawaii was destroyed, and Alaska became part of a district. America himself has fled, and his whereabouts are uncertain.

District 1 includes Canada, Greenland, and Alaska. They are responsible for providing Panem with luxury items and ice.

Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Iceland make up District 2. They are Panem's supplier of furniture and electronic devices.

District 3 is made up of Germany, Poland, Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands. They supply Panem with lumber.

District 4 is comprised of the United Kingdom and France. They supply stone.

Portugal, Spain, Monaco, and Italy were grouped to become District 5. They provide fish and seafood to Panem.

District 6 was created from the lands of Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, and Hungary. District 6 yields Panem's livestock.

The 3 Baltic States became District 7. They produce transportation for Panem.

Romania, Bulgaria, Moldova, Croatia, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia were combined to form District 8. They supply Panem with weaponry.

District 9 was formed from Russia, Belarus, the Ukraine, and Mongolia. They are Panem's power supply.

District 10 provides clothing and other textiles to Panem. It is composed of Greece, Israel, Turkey, and Egypt.

District 11's purpose is mainly agricultural. It is formed out of China, Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Taiwan, and India.

Australia and New Zealand's lands were used to form District 12. District 12 provides Panem with metals.

Antarctica, Central and South America, and most of Africa was completely destroyed, and is considered "District 13".

When these districts were being created, the personifications often fought back. Panem knew a bit of magic, and so, protected himself in many different ways. The most common was a gender swap. Panem's attacker would be knocked unconscious, and have switched to the opposite gender when they woke up. Many nations who were originally male found themselves the opposite gender because of Panem's "self-defense". Eventually, Panem got the personifications under control, and began to form his empire.

To keep the districts in check, each must send 2 "tributes", one male, one female, aged 12-18, into an "arena" to fight to the death on national television until only one remains. This is mandatory viewing. It happens once a year in the summers, and zips known as the "Hunger Games".

It was decided while the games were being developed that every 25 years, the games would be altered and have a special symbolic meaning relating to the "Dark Days" when Panem was forming his empire. These are known as "Quarter Quells". This year, being the 25th year of Hunger Games, will be a Quell year, the first of many, many more.

To remind the Districts that Panem is generous to young and old alike, the age range for this year's pool of tributes is 12-20 years of age.

* * *

**And that concludes the prologue! The next chapter will be Part 1/3 of the Reapings.**

**The inspiration for this story comes from TheEmberGirl's "May the Odds Be in the Favour of the Fallen". I hope she doesn't mind.**

**I will try to update this story on Sunday nights.**

**Please review and tell me what you think. Follows and favorites are also appreciated. Please be aware that I am aware that there may be slight typos. Don't hate me for those! I'm only human, and no-one is perfect.**

**Gilbert: Except Prussia. **

**No, not even Prussia.**

**Tchuss!**

**-The Sylph of Time (Dehnia Pelryn)**


	2. Chapter 1: The Reapings: Part 1 of 3

**_District 1-America_**

I look at my hands. Rough, with thick fingers and rather meaty palms. I pick ice. That's all I can do. I don't have enough coordination for piecing together pretty things. Alaska. It's all I have left.

"Al?" Meagin, a co-worker of mine approaches me. "It's time to go. You're in this year, remember?" Oh yeah. Being a nation, I'm permanently 19.

"Yeah, I'm comin'." I say. "just let me get ready." After scrubbing myself down and changing into nicer clothes than my uniform, I file into the square along with the other 19-year-old guys. None of which are too pleased, having believes they were off the hook this year and finding themselves back on it. I usually switch towns and jobs every 3 years. No-one can know I don't age. That's the point of "in hiding", right?

The chubby mayor goes over the history of this cursed country. Blah, blah, blah. All the personifications are dead. Yeah, right. It ain't that easy, Panem.

When Panem began to invade us, he started with Hawaii. Pearl Harbor all over again, but more painful because this time, Hawaii was part of me, not just a military base. Then, he came to my house in Washington DC and attempted to kill me. My boss took my bloodied, unconscious body to Alaska. Sadly, this was his final effort, as some of Panem's soldiers killed him. My "Lower 48" contiguous states were turned into the Capitol, Panem's rediculous center of power. Alaska was made part of District 1. I was unconscious for most of the attacks because the pain of citizen deaths an land separation was overwhelming.

I had woken up with Canada standing over me, telling me that we were disguising ourselves as humans and laying low. I haven't seen my "brother" since. I would assume he's somewhere in Canada, just as I'm in Alaska.

After the boring history part~I was never one to pay attention to that type of thing~the Reaping began.

The flamboyant Capitol escort, whose name I can never remember, walks over to the large glass bowls full of slips of paper with eligible names written on them.

The Capitol man strides over the guys' bowl. He dips his hand in with a flourish and grabs a alp of paper. He holds it flat and announces the name.

"Alfred F. Jones!" It takes a moment to register, and I'm shoved to the front of the crowd. Crap. I'm screwed.

The Capitol escort stars towards the girls' bowl, but a quiet voice calls out from the crowd, "I volunteer as tribute!"  
"All right. Come up here. What's your name?" The escort says.

"Madeline Williams." There's something familiar in that name~and the girl~that I just can't place. The girl has honey-blonde hair, pulled into two ponytails. Her violet-blue eyes are hidden behind glasses, like my blue ones. She is wearing a blue skirt and sweater, white tights, shiny white shoes, and a red felt coat with...maple leaves! The tell-tale sign, I realize, is that the girl is holding a white bear. I can't help but stare at her, and she gives me a look that says, "later".

Peacekeepers, Panem's harsh version of police officers, escort Madeline and I to the Justice Building, where loved ones can say goodbye to the tributes. I don't have many~I generally try not to get too attached~but Meagin might come. I'll talk with Madeline on the train.

* * *

**_District 2-Norway_**

I hate this. I stand here every year. 17-year-old girls. Girls, you ask. Norway, why do you stand in the girls' section? Are you fucked up in the head or something? No, but that idiot Panem fucked up my life. When Panem came to the mansion I shared with the other Nordics, Iceland and I fought back. Finland and Sealand ran, and Denmark and Sweden were knocked unconscious when Panem entered. Sealand was later destroyed. The personification known as Peter Kirkland is now dead.

Panem, it turns out, knew magic. When Iceland and I fell upon him, he used a self-defense spell that somehow ended up turning at least me, if not Iceland as well, into a girl, and knocked the both of us out.

We were separated after that. I haven't seen any of the Nordics since. I love in small Norwegian towns, most by the sea, switching every few years, being eligible for death every year. The reason I know of Sealand's fate is that he was off the coast of the coastal town I lived in at the time, Kyrksæterøra. That boy was always too sure of himself.

I go by Esta now. I work at an electronics factory, and barely make enough money to live on. The only clue that I'm still Norway is the cross clip in my hair, which now traces far down my back. Every year, I promise myself that if another Nordic gets called (specifically Iceland and Denmark. Finland and Sweden are too old.), I will volunteer. I remember the others' surnames, just not who they belong to.

Today, for the Reaping, I wear a blue sailor shirt, just like old times. I also wear a blue skirt, stockings, and black boots. My hair has been braided all down one side, and brushed meticulously. They clip is ever-present.

The mayor of District 2 makes empty claims that all the nations were killed, but I only know of one. He tells of the painful situation our world is in, but sugar-coated, like telling a child their parent died.

The Capitol lady, Marrissole, clomps across the stage in her towering shoes to read the names. As always, the guys are first. Her long nails clack against the glass of the vessel as she pulls out a slip of paper.  
"Matthias Køhler!" She exclaims. That name is one on my list, I think. Now, I just need to remember whose it is. This year isn't my lucky year. I'll wait until the girls' name is pulled to volunteer.

When the boy's name is called, sounds of displeasure issue from the crowd. He must be rather popular.

Marrissole moves to the girls' vessel, and I still can't place whose name was called.

"Esta Bondevik!" Marrissole says, and I look up from my feet. 'No need to volunteer,' I think. 'and no need to figure it out. I'll just ask him.' A glimmer of recognition appeared on his face when my name was called. Then one of confusion.

I walk up to the stage, sheepishly smiling and giving a slight wave.

When the peacekeepers escort us to the justice building, I realize who he is. His hair is flat, brushed back like mine used to be, but it's Denmark. He notices me looking at him and motions to his head, where the clip is on mine. Avoiding eye contact, I give a slight nod.

He will have many people saying goodbye to him. I'm not sure I'll have any.

* * *

**_District 3-Prussia_**

It's sunny today. For once. I absent-mindedly pet my head where Gilbird would be.

During the whole "Attack on the World" thing, I wasn't really affected, technically being a "dissolved nation". Bullshit. I lived with West at the time. They came to his house and attacked him. They would have killed him if Gilbird and I hadn't been there. We got them to stop attacking West. I took a shot to the shoulder. It was the one Gilbird was sitting on and...it's a sore subject.

West and I went into hiding, disguising ourselves as human brothers. Life still hasn't the same, though. West is entered in those damn games every year, thank Gott his name hasn't been drawn yet.

I have taken to wearing a hat so I don't keep petting my head, but this particular day is too hot, so I find myself doing just that amongst all the other guys my age.

I'm dressed to the nines for myself. Normally, West and I are out chopping wood all day, and wear practically whatever we want. My shirt today has a collar, I'm wearing slacks, and even a tie! I haven't dressed this way since I was an actual nation!

Finally, it's time for the Reaping itself. The guys are always first. Growing up, I always learned "ladies first", but I guess that bastard Panem has other ideas.

The crazy Capitol lady takes her time finding just the right slip of paper. After about seven minutes of digging around the giant fishbowl-looking container, she pulls her hand out and reads the name.  
"Ludwig Beilschmidt." She calls. I see West start forward. Hell no. Panem took my Gilbird, but he won't take my bruder too.

"I volunteer!" I announce. West looks at me, and I take his place on the stage.

"What's your name?" The lady asks.

"Gilbert." I say.

"Gilbert what?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Aww! I bet that's your little brother, am I right?"

"No it's my mutter."

She seems to have taken the hint that our conversation is over, and proceeds to the girls' bowl. She again takes her time selecting a slip of paper and results with "Anri Maes!" A boy next to West in the crowd pales. His hair is spiked up, and I can just make out the red line of a scar on his forehead.

A young girl steps nervously onto the stage. She has short, curly, auburn hair fastened with a ribbon, sparkly green eyes, and fair skin. She wears a green dress and white shoes. I think it's safe to assume that the boy next to West is her brother.

The girl, Anri, looks at me and seems to recognize me. Is she a nation? I mean, I'm albino, I'm not hard to spot, but her recognition seems deeper than having seen me just on the street, where I'm wearing my hat anyway. I'll ask her on the train but right I'm being taken to the Justice Building to explain myself to West.

* * *

**_District 4-England_**

'Why did they lump my country with that frog's? My food isn't /that/ bad, is it?'

It's drizzling lightly, reflecting the mood of the people gathered in the square today.

At 20 years of age, I'm at the oldest end of this year's range. We don't see the footage of the other Districts' Reapings until our tributes are halfway to the Capitol.

Canada ran to me first when Panem began invading us. He always had an uncanny sense of America's well-being. He told me something bad happened to America, something bad that had to do with a young nation that America had found 17 years previous. Canada had then left to defend his own land. I dong know what's become of him. I hope he's alright.

When Panem had finished with the North American continent, he island hopped via Greenland to Iceland an proceeded to conquer the Nordics.  
After that, it was just a matter of time before that wanker overpowered France and I, taking our land as his own.

It was teatime in jolly old England. I was in my library, enjoying my tea, and a scone. Panem jumped through the window, shattering the panes and the wooden frame alike. He landed on his feet, brushed his hands off, and smiled.

"Hello England!" He said. He has an odd accent, a mixture of American Midwestern and High-Class English. "Oh, did I ruin your nice snack thing? Oh I'm sorry! At least you don't have to continue it once I kill you!"

He feigned towards me, and I fell for it, backing into one of his soldiers, who was holding a gun. I turned my head to see who was holding it, but my face turned into a chloroform cloth Panem was holding, and I passed out.

I woke up cursing myself for being so weak. I soon learned that Panem had taken over the entire UK and Ireland, and that France had gone missing.

When a nation's land is taken by force by another country, meaning the people still feel patriotic to them, not the invader, a personification hangs around still. However, the personification can now die of injuries and contagious illness, as well as things such as vehicle crashes, and bombs.

Basically, if a nation who isn't Panem were to get called right now for the Hunger Games, they could die.

I fiddle with my twill bow tie. I understand the history part, I hear it every year and was bloody part of it! Get to the names already, you arse!

Finally, the Capitol representative moves out of his spot. He approaches the large glass bowl of names. His hand lingers before finding a slip.

'Pay attention now Iggy.' I think, using an old nickname given to me by America.

"Arthur Kirkland." Wait, that's me! I fix my tie yet again and ascend the stage. I turn around and gaze over the crowd, searching for a camera.

Let any nation, anywhere, watch this and know that the great country of England is going to die, but he can promise that he won't go down without a fight.

The Capitol man moves on to drawing the girls' name. He seems to take his time every year, relishing his time on stage. With practiced grace, he removes another slip of paper and calls another name.

"Francine Bonnefoy!" Oh, France.

As France walks up to the stage, it's clear some sort of magic has been worked on him...er, her.

She looks dashing nevertheless. Her dirty blonde locks are pulled up and fastened with violet roses. Her dress is simple, the top is lavender with fluttery sleeves. The skirt is créme, and she holds a royal purple cardigan that she must've taken off earlier.

I realize I'm staring, but before I can turn my gaze away, she gives me a gentle smile, filling my chest with an odd sort of warmth.

We are lead away to the Justice Building, but I'm still only halfway present.

* * *

**Hey guys! It's Sylph of Time with a new pen name! I've been super busy lately, as we just had a big event at my school last night, but I finally typed this up! I kinda gave up on the whole "hiatus" thing, so I'm back with weekly posts of this story, and my other two current stories.**

**Thanks to thenordic5forever96 for the follow, favorite, and review; SilverDawn1313 for the follow and favorite; and Haliegh for the follow!**

**Follow in these peoples footsteps and do the same and do the same! (See what I did there?) It will be much appreciated!**

**Happy Valentines Day! Enjoy life!**

**-Esta (See what I did there?)**


	3. Chapter 2: The Reapings: Part 2 of 3

**_District 5-Monaco_**

My palms are sweaty, and I can't stop shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I don't understand why I'm so nervous.

'You've been through so many of these, what's so different about this year?' One half of my conscience tells me. But of course, my other half just /has/ to have the last word.

'Its a Quarter Quell. You might find other nations, Monaco!' It says. 'Can you even die anymore?'

"Oh, shut up!" I accidentally say aloud. The girl standing next to me gives me a look.

It's hot and sticky today in Bellagio, the main city of District 5, where I live. Panem attacked my small country, Monaco, 26 years ago.

26 years ago, I was still represented as 15 years old, as my country has had no cultural or economic growth.

26 years ago, Panem sent a battalion of soldiers through the seaside hills of the Côte d'Azure, through the streets of Monte Carlo, up the hill to the palace, where I lived with my bosses, the royal family. He stormed the gates, took out the guards, and went directly to my quarters, where I was working.

"Hello! What can I do for you?" I had said pleasantly, standing up. I hadn't known who he was at the time. Panem, at the front of the pack, had shoved me against the wall. He had kicked me so hard in the shin that it snapped, ad pinned me to the wall with knives in my sides. After about 15 minutes of excruciating pain, I finally passed out, finding myself in the street with concerned citizens gathered around, wondering why such a fancy girl as me was laying in a pool of blood on the ground.

A woman took me in briefly and tended to the cuts in my sides, but my broken leg went unnoticed, never set right, and resulted in a limp, which I still have today.

I left the woman and bought an apartment in town. In Monte Carlo it's easy to go unnoticed because no-one really pays attention to who they pass on the street. I go to the town's District-regulated school, and sell fish for the money to survive on. With the merging of Spain, Portugal, Monaco, and Italy, I only occasionally see visitors anymore. My yacht port is now home to fishing and shipping vessels. The strictness of District life and the peacekeepers limit holidays and recreation.

However, because this is the Mediterranean, our peacekeepers are more laid-back than most, I would assume, so the old casino functions as a black market and smaller casino.

Our mayor finishes up reading the Treaty of Treason, the historical document of the Dark Days according to Panem.

The Reapings begin. A Capitol lady, different from our usual, teeters across the stage. She sticks get hand in the boys' name flask, burying her hand and grabbing the card at the very bottom.  
"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!" A boy (man?) of about 19 comes up, and I would know that messy brown hair and smiling green eyes anywhere. It's Spain, my old guardian (I have lived with him and France in the past), and he looks rather terrified. From where I stand in the front, I look up at him and smile, hoping he notices me. I'm in front because I'm short. When I knew Liechtenstein well, she was taller than me, despite appearing younger.

The Capitol lady uses the same technique in the girls' flask, and results with "René Bonnefoy." A.K.A., moi. I come up to the stage as well, my cotton dress swishing around my knees. I don't pay Spain much attention for now, that'll be saved for the long train ride to America...er, the Capitol.

I wonder what Romano thinks about Spain being reaped.

* * *

**_District 6-Hungary_**

It's nice of them to put the Reaping on the bridge in front of the Jet D'Eau, even if it doesn't spray water anymore. These shores used to be crawling with people: a gelato stand on that platform, a restaurant on a boat on that shore, a Ferris wheel on that market ground (it was once a park), flags of so many nations flying on the bridge's railings. Now it's dreary, and rather devoid of life, despite being the District's main city. Not many large towns here are inhabited and busy anymore because of our industry. Budapest was destroyed, and I live in a small town in the country. It's called Kerekegyháza, and near nothing, not even an old highway.

I appear about 19, but the youngest I can pass for is 15, and the oldest is a timeless 30. Being as I've lived here for the past 25 years as the sad young woman who owns the small bar on Main Street, it's nearly time to move.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, the document that describes the Dark Days from Panem's point of view. As I was taught when I was very small: only the winners write history. How true.

During the Dark Days, Switzerland's house in an alpine town called Sils Maria was attacked and destroyed, as well as mine in Budapest. I was visiting Mr. Austria at the time, and Switzerlad fled to Mr. Austria's house with Liechtenstein in tow.

The little girl was battered up pretty badly. Her collarbone was broken, as well as a few ribs, and she had a large burn stretching from her under her right eye to across her chest, right over her breastbone.

As soon as we healed Liechtenstein up enough, Panem began to attack Mr. Austria's house.

"If something happens and we end up separated with our lands taken, we will disguise ourselves as humans." Switzerland said.

"Yes." I agreed. Austria nodded his head, wringing his fingers nervously.

It was decided. Panem's men kicked down the door and entered. Mr. Austria immediately ran to his piano. Switzerland held up a rifle, as per usual, and Liechtenstein raised a pistol in one arm. Armed with only a frying pan, I rushed the soldiers. I knocked a few of them unconscious, until I recieved a concussion and the butt of a gun on a pressure point. I woke up on Mr. Austria's marble floor, where I had fallen. The piano was ruined and Austria himself lay unconscious among the splinters. Liechtenstein's pistol lay abandoned on the blood-smeared floor, the owner and her big brother nowhere to be found.

I found a piece of stationary in Mr. Austria's study and wrote:

"Mr. Austria,

I have left and am going into hiding. I will live as a human and we likely will not be seeing each other again.

I would just like to say it's been wonderful to know you. We've been through good times, bad times and everything in between.

Remember me, because I will always remember you.

Szeretlek,

Magyarország (Ungarn)"

I placed the note on Austria's chest for when he woke up, and left for Kerekegyháza.

Here I stand today, my first time in Geneva since the Dark Days. This is where Svájc hosted world meetings, a truly international city in a truly international country.

I mess with my apron. The Treaty is my least favorite part, not because it angers me per se, but because it resurfaces.

I adjust the flower in my hair. I always tell the Capitol I'm 19 because that's how I appear and because then I'm usually safe. It makes me feel a little guilty for people like Liechtenstein, Belgium, Monaco, and Latvia, but what can I say?

I delve so deep into my memories that I apart don't notice the beginning of the Reaping. A girl next to me nudges me just as the boys' name is being called.

"Roderich Edelstein!" Only one person I know would ever have the name "Roderich Edelstein" and that's Mr. Austria. My suspicions are confirmed when a dark brown lock of flyaway hair bobs over the crowd. I start to panic a bit, and apparently someone has a similar idea because a gravelly voice calls out:

"I volunteer!"

The volunteer approaches the stage. His hair is a shoulder-length straw blonde. When he turns to face the gathered crowd, I see he has almond-shaped green eyes, and a rather stem expression. Svájc.

When asked his name, he replies: "Basch Zwingli."  
It is now time for the girls' drawing.

"Lili Zwingli." On stage, Basch visibly pales. The girl next to me nudges me again and says,

"His little sister. He's very protective of her." I look at her and she shrugs. "I went to school with him."

I stand in the front row. Basch catches my gaze, recognizes the flower and apron, and pleads with his eyes for me to do something.

"I-I volunteer as well!" I exclaim. I walk on stage.

"What'd your name, dear?" The Capitol escort says.

"Elisveta Héderváry."

Basch thanks me with another look.

"Lichten?" I manage as we're taken to the Justice Building. He nods slightly and I leave him be after that.

* * *

**_District 7-Estonia_**

I sigh. The downpour today has plastered my hair to my face. I bite my bottom lip lightly, searching the crowd for someone familiar. My dress is soaked, my socks and shoes slosh uncomfortably, and my glasses have fogged.

Across the square, I spot Latvia's gold-blonde curls. Several meters to the left, Lithuania stands quietly, politely listening. We do this every year, how does Liet not break down? Oh right, he doesn't do it every year. Ōnnelik.

You might, by now, have noticed that I mentioned wearing a dress. That's a bit complicated to explain. During the Dark Days, Latvia, Lithuania and I were separated, with no access to each other due to the soldiers marching all over our borders and towns. I was stuck in my house in Tallinn with my boss, and began to get bored. Totally unlike myself, I decided to venture outside with a gun I had found in an old storage room. I walked all over town, taking out soldiers when they got in my way.

Then I ran out of bullets.

I had caused enough disturbance that Panem had been called in. He did something that paralyzed me, I was taken back to my house, and plonks down in my office chair.

The rest is rather foggy. I remember being knocked out and waking up as a girl with Latvia and Lithuania standing over me, telling me that our countries were combined into a "District".

Lithuania, Latvia, and I lie as "adopted siblings" in Smārde, a small Latvian town by what once was Kemeru National Park. Toris and Raivis run a small grocery. I work at a facility where transportation is programmed.

I come back into the present just as the mayor of District 7, my home, begins to explain the games.

"As I'm sure you're all well aware, the ages that tributes are eligible at have been extended this year..." Through the crowd, Lithuania tosses his head, and several grumbles can be heard in the gathered group.

When the mayor finishes, the escort steps forward. She's a rather sad looking woman because in all her years of being District 7's escort~25~not once has she brought a citizen back from the Capitol. We've had no victors in the Games' entire history.

She starts to reach into the boys' draw pile. "Let's pick a strong young man this year, eh?" She says unenthusiastically. The escort picks up a name card. "Raivis Galante!" She reads.

My heart drops into my stomach and I feel like screaming. Toris searches through the crowd for me, white as a sheet. Raivis balls his hands into trembling fists and steps on stage.

The escort shows visible disappointment that our tribute is a small 14-year-old and I feel a bit of anger flare up inside me. 'You don't know what he's been through! So much more than you have!' I think. But I don't know if he'll make it through this time.

I am so caught up in my thoughts that I almost miss my own name~Kadri Von Bock~being called. As I step on stage, I can feel a lump in my throat, but I grab Latvia's hand in mine and raise them in the air in a vote of self-confidence.

As we are taken to the Justice Building, Latvia still grips my hand tightly. I give him an encouraging smile. At least in the rain no-one sees you cry.

* * *

**_District 8-Romania_**

The square is silent other than the mayor's nasal voice droning on about how great out country has become.

I steal a glance at Moldova. It's definitely taken some getting used to the fact that my brother is now my sister, but the doing was done and here we stand in the crowd assembled here, our names sitting in a deadly lottery.

I first had heard word that Panem had begun invading and taking the other nations when Magyar disappeared. At first, I didn't care all that much because she was Magyar, I was România, and we didn't generally get along. Then I realized that it could happen to Moldova an I as well.

The next blow struck when Panem took Moldova. When he began being attacked, Moldova sent a messenger to me telling me what was going on. I thanked the messenger and immediately left for my little brother's house.

When I arrived, the home was nearly in ruins. I entered the the doorway~the door had been broken down~and searched for Moldova in the rubble.

"România." A small voice called when I entered the study. A little girl wearing Moldova's coat huddled under the desk.

I crouched down to the girl's eye level. "Who are you? Why are you in my brother's house?" I demanded.

"Fratele, it /is/ me." The girl said, showing me her upper front teeth. Sure enough, she had two unusually shaped eye teeth. She closed her mouth again. "They took my hat." She confessed.

"Oh, Moldova. What are we gonna do with you now?" I said, giving her a hand up.

"Go to your house?"

"But what if they attack again?" She shrugged.

And attack they did. My house destroyed, my land taken, my pride damaged, and my hat gone, Moldova and I went into hiding as regular citizens in what became District 8. Moldova~now Alina~attended school, while I took a job at a weapon factory near the town we live in~Bod Prejmer~near Bucharest, my old capital.

'She's so small! She wouldn't last a minute in the Arena! Have you seen some of the 18-year-olds from previous years? And now the age is 20!' I think. Alina looks so innocent, standing in the crowd of girls "her age" in her pink frock, white sweater and tights.

Our Capitol name-caller person steps forward. She's odd because she always draws the names before the Reaping ceremony itself. She has a handkerchief out this year, and she keeps wiping her nose with it. Yikes. This can't be a good sign. Clearing her throat and sniffling a bit she says:

"District 8's tributes will be Vladimir and Alina Ionescu." I have probably paled 5 shades. All my blood feels like it drained from my face and rushed to my feet, and my collar suddenly feels uncomfortable.

A collective gasp escapes the District citizens. There has never been a pair if sibling tributes before.

I walk over to Moldova, take her hand in mine, and head onto the stage. The small appendage is clammy with sweat.

"Are there volunteers?" The escort gulps. You could hear a pin drop a kilometer away. Moldova begins to cry into my arm and the escort blows her nose with a loud "Honk!", but I put an arm around my sora and gaze stoically into the crowd, trying to keep my emotions in check.

As we walk to the train station Alina~who has yet to let go of me~pulls my arm.

"Fratele, why us? What more does karma want? We've already lost our lands and our people."

"I don't know, sora. Just always stay with me, okay?"

She nods, and a fat tear rolls down her cheek.

* * *

**Hey guys! It's me again! I'm sorry these are a bit repetitive. I'm trying to differ them a bit...**

**Translations:**

**Jet D'Eau=Literally "water jet". A fountain in Geneva, Switzerland that sprays water 140 meters into the air.**

**Szeretlek=I love you (Hungarian)**

**Magyar/Magyarország=Hungary (Hungarian)**

**Ungarn=Hungary (German)**

**Svájc=Switzerland (Hungarian)**

**Ōnnelik=Lucky (Estonian)**

**Fratele=Brother (Romanian)**

**Sora=Sister (Romanian)**

**România=Romania (Romanian)**

**If I translated something wrong, feel free to let me know! I won't take offense and I will change it as well.**

**Thanks to IggyKirklandZJK for reviewing and following, seasaltflavoredsweetpeas for favoriting and reviewing, SilverDawn1313 for reviewing, and Lilac the Kitsune for following.**

**If you need something clarified, or simply have questions about the story, feel free to review with the question or PM me! I'll answer questions if it doesn't ruin the plot too much. ;)**

**Next week: Part 3/3 of the Reapings! Districts 9-12!**

**Tchuss! Follow, favorite and review for more words and love!**

**-Esta**


	4. Chapter 3: The Reapings: Part 3 of 3

**_District 9-Russia_**

I miss all the sunflowers. The world seems cold and barren and cruel and pointless now. I stand here, in the square~the one that was once red and beautiful~And my sisters stand on the opposite side. Here, we face danger, separately, and it's just not the same.

I drift into the past, remembering. When Украина gave me her scarf. When Беларусь would paw at the door, wanting to spend time with her big brother (though I'll admit it was a bit creepy). When my sisters and I would play together in the garden as children. When Латвия, Литва, Эстония, Польша, Пруссия, Венгрия, Румыния, Молдова, and my sisters lived at my house.

When everyone left me and I was lonely with only General Winter for company. When my friends the other countries were attacked by the new nation, Panem.

He attacked the Страны Балтии ((Baltics)), which was when it first started to worry me. He proceeded to conquer Молдова and Румыния. He appeared to be surrounding my sisters and me. Then, he struck.

Украина went down first under Panem's attacks. Her government had been unstable since uprisings had plagued her capital, her heart, earlier in the century. I had rushed to her house, finding her tied to a chair in her kitchen, her boss lying dead on the counter with a knife in his back.

While I was aiding Украина, Panem attacked Беларусь. According to answers she has gave me after the incident, she put up quite a fight until Panem used her affections towards me against her. He told her I'd never actually loved her, not the way she did me, not even as a brother, but not at all. She, shocked by the claims, was relatively easy to take down.

I took my sisters back to Москва with me, and Panem struck again. He bombed Санкт Петербург, resulting in distraction on my part, making it the perfect time for him to bring me down. My boss was dead. Panem essentially had control over my country. I was just a pawn in his way on his route to killing the king.

I toss the ends of my scarf over my shoulders. Беларусь, Украина, and I run a restaurant. Once a year, Беларусь has her name put in the pool, but she's never been picked.

How has our world become this? It from friendly meetings between countries~

"Get away from me frog!"

"Why should I honhonhon!"

"I'm the hero listen to me!"~

To living in hiding, living among humans in crumbling conditions. How did any of us become this /weak/? It's pathetic, really. And we can't even do anything about it anymore. We're almost mortal.

I stand through the annual history tangent, running names through my head: "Braginski. Ivan. Natalya. Katyusha. Брагинский. Иван. Наталия. Катуща." Over and over until I nearly convince myself we were picked. I force myself to stop. The names are being pulled. Our Capitol escort crosses the stage like she owns the place. She picks up a name and reads it.

"Ivan Braginski." My name. It sounds nice escaping her mouth. I ascend the platform as I'm supposed to. I can see Украина, horribly flustered, standing in the crowd, looking at me. I give her a wave and a smile. "I know what I'm doing. It'll be alright." It doesn't seem to help.

By the time the escort draws the other name, I feel awkward and overdressed in my coat and scarf.

"Katyusha Braginski." The escort reads. Surprised noises come from the crowd. Украина faints before even taking a step towards the platform.

"I volunteer!" A voice comes from the crowd. It says something else, but I don't catch it.

The speaker approaches the platform and stands next to me.

"What's your name, dear?" Says the escort.

"Natalya Braginski." My little sister replies curtly. More gasps emanate from the gathered citizens, and a few start crying.

"We'll always stay together big brother." Беларусь says as we're lead to the train station. I nod as reply.

Брагиский. Иван. Наталия. Катюша. Will it be just Катюша when this is all over?

* * *

**_District 10-Turkey_**

My face is sore from the sunburn. Sunburns have been nearly ever-present since my mask was taken by Panem 26 years ago.

I'm nervous standing here. There's only a tiny chance I'll get picked, but it can't hurt to worry. I take a deep breath, relaxing my shoulders. I'm not dressed too fancy, but stylish, just the way I like it. A collared shirt and cargo shorts.

I wonder if Greece is here. I haven't seen him in a while. Not that I care...

For me, the Dark Days consisted of Panem coming to my house in Istanbul, taking my mask, kicking me in the solar plexus, murdering my boss, stabbing me in the shoulder blade, taking my country, and leaving.

A sympathizing citizen took me in, fixed me up the best he could (it's still a bit out of whack), and sending me on my merry way.

I moved to a little seaside town called Dalyan and opened up a sweets shop. Because our district manufactures fabric and clothing, we're the most fashion-forward, besides the Capitol, which totally works for me.

"This year's make tribute is..." The Capitol escort, Lackney announces, drawing a name. "Sadiq Adnan!" I sigh, accepting my fate. The crowd parts, letting me through.

'Lackney wears too much eyeliner.' I think. I'm irritated at being picked, so take my anger out on Lackney.

"And the female tribute is Helena Karpusi!" Lackney continues. A girl approaches. Her hair is kinda curly, pulled into a ponytail in the crown of her head. She wears a fancy white tank top and olive green skirt. The top has detailing the same color as the formerly well-known roofs of some houses in Greece.

When she stands next to me, I see she has green eyes and smells faintly of cat. Then I notice the curl on top of her head. She notices mine at the same time.

"Turkey?" She says as we step off the stage to go to the Justice Building.

"Greece." I say. She nods, tucking a couple stray strands of dark hair behind an ear.

Well, this year's Games will certainly be an experience.

* * *

**_District 11-Hong Kong_**

"Leon! Bro! Almost time to go to the square!" Korea says, knocking on my door.

"Alright. Now go away SK." I say. He opened the door when he knocked. I was changing shirts.

"Oh. I see. Kk!" He says, returning the door to its proper closed position.

Once I finish changing, I go to check on Taiwan. "Come in!" She calls when I knock on her door. She sits on her bed, doodling.

"Still miss the Internet after all these years?" I say. It's a bit of an inside joke/greeting we have established. She nods. She knows I do too.

I check my watch. Analog with a leather strap that badly needs replacing. I don't know if we can afford it, even with 5 people living here. Korea, Taiwan and I all go to school, so China and Japan are the only ones with income.

Our district is in charge of agriculture, so they aren't paid very highly.

"We have about half an hour until we start for the square. You should get ready." I say. Taiwan (or Mei) shoves me out the door.

"Thanks!" She says, and shuts the door in my face. I go downstairs to the kitchen, where China is cleaning up from lunch. He's the only one of the 5 of us who doesn't have to worry about being Reaped this year. On a normal year, Japan doesn't either, but this year is the first of many more that aren't normal.

Yao notices me sitting at the table.

"Are you nervous?" He asks, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder.

"Yes. Why would I not be?" I say, turning to look at him.

"There's less of a chance that you will be picked than any other year."

"Yeah, but there's four of us this year."

"Hmm." He hums. He returns to cleaning.

Once Korea, Japan, and Taiwan are ready, we go to the square. It's a miracle we've been able to stay together this entire time. We didn't even get separated during the Dark Days. Panem tried killing important officials, destroying government buildings, he even stabbed China in the side. We all teamed up, keeping him from separating us, although he took our land. He burnt down the mansion we lived in. I now have a. Scar on my face because the ceiling collapsed on my way outside.

At the the square, Taiwan, Korea, Japan, and I separate into our specified age and gender groups, in my case, 15-year-old males.

The mayor stands and talks at us for a bit, then he moved to pull names. He pulls one from each container and hands them to the man who takes the tributes from District 11 to the Capitol, who reads them:

"Leon Wang and Mei Xiao Wang!" He reads excitedly.

Although we're siblings~Mei is Taiwan~it has little effect on the audience simply because Wang is such a common name.

On the stage, I wave to Taiwan. "Hello." I say quietly.

"Hey." Is the reply.

The Capitol man presents us to the crowd, and we are taken to talk to China, Korea, and Japan before making our way across the Pacific Ocean to the city we might not return from.

* * *

**_District 12-Wy_**

"Hey Wy! Wake up! Reaping's today!" Australia yells, nearly sarcastically. He knows I'd never get picked. I slowly roll out of bed and get dressed. It's about 10:30 according to the clock...so about 8:22 actual time.

"Cody! Should I put my hair like I used to?!" I call down the stairs.

"If you want to! Do you still have the flower?"

"Duh! You know I do! It's how you and Zealy found me after the whole 'aah a guy is burning my driveway that I declared independence for' thing!"

Pulling my hair to the side of my head, I grab the flower from my nightstand. I cup the flower between my hand for a moment, staring at the artificial petals before sticking it through the scrunchy and curling the end of the ponytail with my finger. I dress to look as much like my old self as possible. My skirt is khaki, and I wear a pink button-up with a white tank top underneath. I would wear khaki shorts, but I like to be formal for the Reaping, you know?

After messing with my eyebrows~curse you England!~I go downstairs for breakfast. Toby is at the kitchen table, already eating his, so I look over his shoulder. I gasp and turn to Cody.

"Vegemite toast?! Oz, you shouldn't have!"

"We're all in this year so I figured..." He shrugs.

"Well thank you!" I launch into a hug.

"Can I have one?" New Zealand asks.

"Yes. It's hug time!" Australia says.

"Not you Oz, Wy!" Toby laughs. I hug him too, taking a bite of his toast while he's not paying attention. He doesn't notice.

Most of the morning is friendly banter, rough-and-tumble messing around, loud singing of Jet's "Are You Gonna Be My Girl", and making sure we're ready for the Reaping. Also, lots of cleaning. Today's a day off work for Oz, and school for me and Zealy. Everything seems to be embedded with mine dust, so most days off~which are few and far between~involve dusting, scraping, wiping, scrubbing, and makeshift vacuuming reminiscent of when England was in charge.

After everything's in order, we lock up and head over to Perth. We spend the morning in town window-shopping and buying groceries.

Cody takes us out for lunch at a stand selling kangaroo~yum~and we continue browsing but never buying.

At 1:00, it's time for the Reaping. We head to the commons area in front of the Justice Building and gather with our peers.

The mayor of District 12, Mayor Colson, stands and goes over everyone's favorite, most pathetic war ever, the Dark Days. A.K.A. Panem burning my driveway, New Zealand's land somehow being shoved into Oz's, and Oz getting stuck under a couch in a house near Perth. That's our house now.

As I mentioned, Toby and I go to school. I'm in 7th year with 4 left to go. Zealy is in 10th year, and is finished after next year. Oz participates in our District's industry, mining metals. We ran out of opals a couple years, but up until then he mined those.

Suddenly, I'm alert again when I hear an all-too-familiar name.

"Toby Kirkland!" No no no no no no no! That's New Zealand!

"I volunteer!" What? No-one ever volunteers!

"Name?"

"Cody Kirkland." Well, that explains it. Oz runs up to the stage. Another name is picked.

"Wylie Kirkland!" Oh goody. On stage, Oz puts his arm around my shoulders and gives a squeeze. "Awws" and sounds of sympathy and disappointment escape the group. I'm small. They know I'm 12. They also can tell that Cody, Toby and I are siblings.

Down below, I can see New Zealand nearly breaking into tears.

'Well this year might be a rough year.' I think, still tasting the nostalgic tastes of kangaroo and Vegemite.

* * *

**Hey! I've had a request for a chart of who's been picked. That will be on my FFN tumblr sometime tomorrow or the next day, along with illustrations of the Reaping outfits for you visual people. URL: .com**

**Translations! (God I had fun with the Russian)**

**Украина=Ukraine (yoo-krī-nah)**

**Беларусь=Belarus**

**Латвия=Latvia**

**Литва=Lithuania (Leet-vah)**

**Эстония=Estonia**

**Польша=Poland (Pole-sha)**

**Пруссия=Prussia (Proo-see-ya)**

**Венгрия=Hungary (Vehn-gree-ya)**

**Румыния=Romania (Roo-mih-nee-ya)**

**Молдова=Moldova**

**Москва=Moscow (Mohsk-vah)**

**Санкт Петербург=St. Petersburg (Sahnc-ta Pehtr-boorg)**

**Страны Балтии=The Baltic States/Baltics (Strahnih Bahltee)**

**Брагинский=Braginski**

**Иван=Ivan**

**Наталия=Natalya**

**Катюша=Katyusha**

**As always, correct my translations if they are wrong.**

**Thank you akickofpasta for following. Also thank you SilverDawn1313, IggyKirklandZJK, and EmeraldWolf for reviewing. EmeraldWolf, he does kind of look like 2P! France. Acts like him too...**

**PM or review with clarification questions, character questions, or just questions.**

**Have lovely days (or nights)! ;P**

**Tchuss!**

**-Esta**


	5. Chapter 4: Farewells: Part 1of 2

**Hej! So it's been a while... But here's an update! These aren't from the perspectives of someone from every district because the story is going to focus mainly on the perspectives of districts 2, 3, 6, 7, 11, and 12. If I feel it's necessary, other districts will be featured, so don't feel too badly. There's always alliances too! ;) **

**Acknowledgements: **

**Thank you PetraA5144518 for making this story one of your favorites! **

**Thank you LittleLizardLover and thenordic5forever96 for deciding that you want to keep reading this story when I get around to updating! **

**And thanks as well to SilverDawn1313 for the lovely review!**

**I really appreciate receiving PMs and reviews! Feel free to give feedback to make this story, or any of my other stories if you wish, even better. I am also free to just chat with, and I also RP. And PLEASE! If there are language errors, help me fix them if you know how! It means a lot to me to get it correct and there's a lot of not-English in this update! **

**For extra resources as companions to this story, and other stories, follow my FanFiction Tumblr at estabondevik.(Tumblr URL). **

**I think that's enough ranting at y'all for one day~**

**Enjoy!**

** -Esta **

* * *

**_District 1-Canada_**

As we enter the Justice Building, I can't help but look around in awe. The building is large, the ceilings tall with a honey-comb-like array of dark wood arches. Most everything is dark and wooden, but the floors are an awesome marbley stone tile that sparkles gently and reminds me of ice blocks. We are lead to a room to say goodbyes to friends and loved ones. I run my dainty, porcelain-pale fingers on the chair-board as I walk, feeling the slight texture of the wood grain.

The escort from the Capitol informs me that on Quell years, Tributes say their farewells in the same room for security reasons. Each visitor or group of visitors will have 2 minutes to speak with us, then they must leave. The man also tells us that we have to be on the train by 2:30.

Alfred, my district partner, is so obviously America. I can tell that he tried to slick his flyaway piece of hair down with hair gel, but it's started to stick up again. I resist the urge to go up to him and smooth it down again. There are too many people, and I'm not supposed to even know him, having lived in Canada since the Dark Days, while he most likely stayed in his single remaining state, Alaska.

I sit in the velvety light blue chair, hugging Kuma to my chest and anxiously twirling a ponytail with my finger. I know I look younger than I actually am. Maybe it'll help me in the games at some point.

A girl, maybe a year older than America and I, enters the room and embraces Alfred. She has short, choppy brown hair, fair, freckly skin, a blue skirt, black shirt and stockings, and red high-top sneakers. I watch her let go of Alfred, hold both of his hands in hers, lean her forehead against his, and make him promise something. I think they're co-workers. They're definitely very good friends, and watching them, it's safe to bet that there's something more than that between them.

The girl overstays her short welcome. The burly Peacekeepers~they would've made good hockey players~all but drag her out of the room. Alfred stretches his hand out to her, and she does likewise.

"Meagin!" He shouts what I would assume is the girl's name. The door slams closed and he sits down again, heavily.

I glance at him. His glasses fogged, and tears are streaming silently down his flushed face.

I want to go and comfort him, but I know I can't. Not yet.

* * *

**_District 2-Norway_**

They put Denmark and me in the same room, with a multitude of Peacekeepers.

"Your visitors will have 2 minutes to say goodby to you." Marrissole explains. "Isn't that just so beautiful and dramatic?" Matthias agrees enthusiastically, and I nod along, not really listening.

Denmark and I are placed in silvery faux leather chairs on either sides of the room. Almost immediately, many people enter and folk around him.

After about half an hour, someone shoulders through the crowd, moving against the flow to stand in front of me. Violet-blue eyes, framed by a fair-skinned face and long, silver-white hair scan me. The girl wears a white dress and boots, and a long black coat and leggings.

"Halló," she says, "Tvær mínútur byrjar bara þegar þeir vita hvað við erum að segja." (Hello. The two minutes don't start until they know what we're saying.)

"Så vi bør starte som dette?" I say. (So we'll start like this?)

"Já." She says. "Halló stóri bróðir." (Yes. Hello big brother.)

"Hej lillebror. Hvordan har blitt?" (Hello little brother. How've you been?)

"Allt í lagi. Þú?" (Alright. You?)

"Ja. Engelsk nå?" (Yeah. English now?)

"Nei. Við munum segja þroskandi efni eins og þetta og ló á Ensku." (No. We'll say all the important stuff before switching back to English.)

"Ok. Du starter." (OK. You start.)

"Hefur þú séð eitthvað af öðrum?" (Have you seen any of the others?)

"Sist, bare Danmark. Rett etter den Dark Days, Jeg så Sealand bli drept. Har du?" (Lately, only Denmark. But during the Dark Days, I saw Sealand be killed. Have you?)

"Nei...en bíddu...Sealand er dáinn? Ég hélt að við getum ekki deyja!" (No...wait...Sealand is dead? I thought we couldn't die!)

"Panem tok vårt land, vi har ingen betydning slik at vi kan do av impact, sykdom, eller skade." (Panem took our land, so now we can die of impact, illness, or injury.)

"Oh." Iceland thinks it over a bit.

"Hva er navnet ditt nå?" I ask. (What name do you go by now?)

"Eylin Steillsson. Hvað er þitt?" (What about you?)

"Esta Bondevik." I reply.

"Þú vítt betri ekki deyja út í Arena." she warns. (You'd better not die in the Arena.)

"Jeg skal prøve å ikke." (I'll try not to.)

A Peacekeeper hits Eylin on the shoulder with his gun. "Hey, you. Speak English." He spits.

Eylin hugs me. "I'm glad we could meet again before you have to leave, big sister." She says.

I freeze for a moment, surprised that not only did she hug me, but she also called me her older sibling twice. I unfreeze.

"Me too Eylin. Stay safe." She messes with my clip briefly before turning and leaving, her boots clicking against the metallic tile floor.

I watch Matthias until someone leaves his side and approaches me. Sweden, still the same as ever.

"Hej." He says.

"Hej. Where's Finland?"

"Capitol."

"Wow! That's where he went when he ran off?"

"Ja."

"So, Sverige. What if I told you that Sealand was killed?" My accent thickens with nervousness.

"In a kiddin' way?" He says tentatively.

"Do I kid?"

"So...he is." His face falls into a frown. "How do you know?" He looks up at me.

"I lived by the coast. He sailed by, Panem attacked, and he was blown up. I'm sorry." I gently place a hand on his shoulder. "What have you been doing all this time?" I change the subject.

"Buildin' furniture." He says. "You?"

"I've been building teeny-tiny electronics." I say, holding up my hands and wiggling my fingers.

"You still have your Nordic Cross." Sweden observes.

"Yes. Do you?" I touch the clip.

He pulls his out from under his shirt. He keeps it there, on a chain around his neck.

"Be careful." Sweden's baritone voice interrupts my train of thought. "It's very dangerous."

"I will. I already promised Ísland." I cautiously hug him as a farewell. He reciprocates.

"Farvel." I say quietly.

"Farväl." He agrees.

I drink in my surroundings once Sweden leaves, committing then to memory.

Denmark's visitors dwindle eventually, and we end up staring at one another. He smiles, and I look away. Not yet. The train.

* * *

**_District 3-Prussia _**

We're still in public and on camera~I can't ask Anri yet if she's a nation. We're put in a room with forest-green painted walls and green tiled floors. We're sat in wooden chairs, and our visitors~there aren't many~are allowed in.

Anri's brother~I pick up the name Lars~comes in with another brother. The other boy looks like Lars sans spiked-up hair, and is probably about 12 or 13 years old.

They talk for a while. Anri and her younger brother, Alphonse, are quickly reduced to tears, and I can see Lars trying pretty hard to keep his composure.

West walks in, but I don't notice, so he taps my shoulder. I turn my head to see his stern face. He looks at me, expectantly tapping his foot on the tile. _Click_. _Click_. _Click_. I start anxiously petting my head again.

"Why?" He asks. /"Why what?"

"Why did you volunteer in my place?"

"Because...because I lost Holy Rome, and I lost Gilbird, an I can't lose you too."

He opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt.

"I'm not even supposed to be alive anymore, West. I'm more than a hundred years overdue for that schieße."

His expression softens into a frown and he sits on the floor. I fall from my chair onto the floor in front of mein bruderlein and put my arms gently around him. We sit like this for a bit until a Peacekeeper taps my shoulder and says West's time is up and he has to leave.

"Seien Sie vorsichtig, Ost." He says, and starts to leave. (Be careful, East)

"Ich werde. Und West?" He turns. "Wenn Ich sterbe, nicht aufpassen." (I will. And West? If I die, don't watch.) He nods and leaves the room. I watch my little brother's back and think, 'There's no going back.'

* * *

**_District 6-Switzerland _**

I swear I nearly had a heart attack when they called Liechtenstein. Austria, Liechtenstein, who else could possibly be here to call? Hungary, even better. At least the two of us actually likely to survive ended up as the tributes.

But my little sister... My attachment to her since I'd found her that first rainy night surprised everyone, especially myself. I'd been labeled as cold, as mean, as irritable, as strict, as impulsive, as stingy. Maybe her caring companionship was what I had needed.

She enters the room Hungary and I were ushered into and grabs my rough hand in her small, soft, warm one. Tears, wet and warm, barrel down her rosy cheeks, like wet little avalanches. She plops herself gracefully down on the floor, tucking her legs beneath her and her skirt fanned out on the floor.

Gently and awkwardly, I reach my free hand around her shoulder and run circles into her slight back.

She cries for a bit before picking her salt-streaked pink face up and looks into my eyes.

She takes her ribbon out of her hair, which has grown long again, and ties it to my beltloop.

"I want you to take it as your token." She says quietly. Each tribute is allowed a "token", a harmless reminder of their district.

My expression softens. "I can't take this, Lili. I gave it to you, Do you remember?"

"You gave it to me because you love me, big brother. I want you to take it so you never forget. Ich liebe dich!" She squeaks the last sentence, her voice choked up again, and hurriedly leaves the room.

Hungary an Austria watch from their position in the room as I walk out into the door jamb~as far as I'm allowed~and call out to her.

"Ich liebe dich auch, schwesterlein!"

She turns to look at me, then turns back.

"Bitte komm züruck zu Mir." (Please come back to me)

She says it so I can barely hear it, then she's gone.

* * *

**Well I bloody slaughtered my feels (pun not intended) while writing the Switzerland bit, but I found that I'm good at writing him. What gives? **

**So anyway... If I screwed up a translation, shoot me a reply or PM about it. If you correct me, I'll change it. **

**The next update (once I write it) will be 7, 11, and 12. I would like y'all's suggestions on a couple things though: 1)Should district 1 be centric as well? And 2)should I include the train rides or just skip right to the parade/Capitol? Review or PM if you're opinionated about 'em. **

**Have nice days/nights/evenings/afternoons/lunch breaks/classes/whatevers! (If you're reading this in a class I love you because it means you think this is good enough to ignore your teacher for)**

** Ciao!~ **

**-Esta**


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